


Super-unnatural Dating

by Cassiebobassie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Best Friends, Castiel/Dean Winchester Flirting, Disney World & Disneyland, Double Dating, Emotional Hurt, Ferris Wheels, Fluff, Fluff but not fluff for Castiel and Dean, Friends to Lovers, Gay Castiel (Supernatural), Idiots in Love, Japan, Japanese Culture, Jealous Castiel, Light Angst, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, No cheating, Openly Bisexual Dean Winchester, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Alternating, Promiscuous Dean, Romance, more than light angst, no infidelity, ok
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-03-13 18:01:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13575990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cassiebobassie/pseuds/Cassiebobassie
Summary: One guy asks two girls to go out on a double date. Girls say yes, and it turns out that the girls are actually a couple! (Prompt)Dean Smith and Castlel James are on business trip to Japan. They've been best friends for 5 years and Castiel thinks he's only got a few nights before he'll break from being forced to witness any more of Dean's one-night stands. He's jealous, and he's starting to feel at the end of his tether.Things go from bad to worse when Dean decides to rope Castiel into a double date so he can score a hook-up with a shy local. At least that's what he thinks...Castiel doesn't suspect that Dean's been harboring feelings of his own. When Dean learns that his supposed date wanted to take her girlfriend out on the town with the cute gay couple she met at work, panic sets in. If this girl seems to know he's in love with Castiel, is it obvious to everyone? Can they go back to pretending none of this ever happened? Especially when they're both so comfortable in their parts?What a double-date mix-up!





	1. Chapter 1

“Sorry, Cas, but you know we've been in Tokyo for nearly six weeks. It’s time to scratch the itch man.”  

“I got the memo, Dean.” Cas snapped. “What did you say this morning, ‘I should help you Let your bi-flag fly’.” Cas sighed on a long, slow exhale, trying to calm himself. “Dean, I’m trying to be supportive. I am. However, I just—why do _I_ have to help you?” Cas asked, trying to keep his exasperation hidden. He didn’t want to hear Dean complain _again_ that he was being a ‘whiny bitch’. Worse, he didn’t want to let his coworker and best friend of the last five years know that he’d been half in love with him since the first week they met. “Dean, I’m _gay_. To go out with these women would be purely dishonest.”

“Hey, I’d love to jump in the sack with the first guy I see that gets my motor running, Cas. But you know I like the kind of dudes that can toss me around a little.” Dean winked.

Cas tried to control the shiver that wanted to roll through his body, half revulsion, half desire. Despite Castiel’s early faith that hearing of Dean’s exploits would slowly inure him to the sensation, each time Dean bragged of his one-night stands Cas felt the pang of jealousy and a flare of lust. He was always half picturing himself starring in the role of Dean’s anonymous contact and half-wishing that Dean would never have sex again—at least with anyone other than him. But in all the years they’d known each other, Dean hadn’t shown the slightest interest.

Several times a day, at work meetings and business lunches, and over evening drinks, Cas was first-hand witness to Dean’s flirtations and he’d watched Dean go home with someone new—someone _else_ night after night. Even though Castiel had always been available, had always been there for Dean, had always greeted him with open arms and a warm smile, Dean had never once looked in his direction—not as anything more than a friend. And it hurt. Even though he swore to himself that the pain would lessen over time, it never did; but he was appeasing his hurting heart with the certainty that Dean spent most of his time with Castiel at his side. 

Castiel was Dean’s only constant. Dean seemed to have no desire to date anyone or even sleep with anyone more than once. One day that would likely change. Thank heaven today didn’t seem to be that day. He didn’t know how he’d survive any serious relationships Dean had.

“Let me tell ya, Cas, I been looking. Not really interested in hooking up with a chick in a culture I only half get. Been afraid I’m going to be chased down by somebody’s dad. But Japan’s been slim pickings on the guys-who-make-Dean-hard front. Most of the guys I’ve seen give me a twink vibe.” 

“Are you saying a guy _has_ to be Japanese?”

“When in Rome, do a Roman.” Dean said with a wink.

  “That is _not_ the saying, Dean.”

Dean just laughed and took another long drink of his beer.

“I think it’s worse than ridiculous that you’re insisting that you can’t find a single man in Tokyo worth your time.”

“You know, Cas, I’m half worried my dick is going no-homo on me. Even in the States no dudes seem to do it for me lately—more than lately. Shit, the last guy I was with was Benny. You remember Benny, right?”

Of course, he remembered. Castiel couldn’t forget Benny, even if he wanted to. Benny’s role as Dean’s sexual partner over the course of eight months, two weeks, and three days had been more than a little hard to handle. Three years ago, Benny had joined their research team after a Sandover had temporarily transplanted them to open a new branch in Atlanta. Their first night in town, Benny had taken them out to a bar. As soon as Dean made it clear that he was open to sex, Benny had taken him up on the offer. Over a bevy of nonverbal cues and some joking flirtation, they’d both seemed to forget Castiel existed. Watching Benny dry-hump his best friend against a bar on a Friday night after only 14 hours of being in the stranger’s company seared Cas’s brain. He hadn’t been able to sleep that night or many of the nights following. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Benny’s hands on Dean’s ass, their tongues tangling, Dean’s hands in Benny’s hair. He heard Dean’s moans. God. He could still picture it like it happened yesterday. Benny had clearly always wanted more—at least it was clear to Castiel. But whenever Castiel worried that Benny hated him and wanted them to stop being friends, Dean had laughed it off, calling the possessive Cajun his long-term fuck-buddy. Dean had always said that when they moved back to Kansas, it would be like Benny never existed, and for the most part—at least for Dean—it had been. This was probably the only time in the last few years Dean had even said the man’s name. 

“I remember Benny, Dean. Yes. And you haven’t been with a man sexually since then?” Castiel asked, confused. He had noticed that every night they had dinner together or went to a bar after work, Dean always went home with women, but that wasn’t _every_ night. It was most nights, sure, but he’d always thought… always _hoped_ that Dean was subconsciously sparing him. He’d never dreamed that Dean hadn’t been with another man in years.

“But the ladies here, Cas… well, let’s just say I’ve seen a few chicks who could be centerfolds.”

Dean smiled and waggled his eyebrows. Cas remained straight-faced. He knew Dean was trying to be funny, but this was adding another layer to Cas’s daily farce. Each day Castiel pretended to feel nothing but friendship for Dean, and now he had to pretend interest in a strange, Japanese woman he’d never even met.

Dean nudged Cas with his elbow. “Get it, Cas, they look like those busty asian beauties.”

Cas rolled his eyes. “Yes, I get it, Dean. I just don’t get why I’m supposed to entertain one of these women on the pretext that I might feel some desire for her while you … what did you call it? Oh yeah, ‘generate intimate diplomatic relations between your two genital nations’.”

“What, dude? It’s a metaphor _and_ it rhymes. It’s awesome.”

“How did you even get tied up with a double-date? Aren’t the women you usually involve yourself with a little too independent for that kind of thing?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s a Japanese chick thing. I’m not a cultural expert.”

“You watch a lot of their animation.”

“Watching their porn makes me a certified pervert, not an expert on their dating practices.”

“How did you meet her, Dean?”

“Hinata and I met a work function. Remember when you were too sick with that bug you caught on the plane ride over?”

Cas nodded his head. He’d been too sick to move, let alone schmooze clients. Dean had enough charm for the both of them, he’d gone on a number of appointments without Castiel, until Cas was able to don a professional appearance without vomiting or passing out. 

“Well, we got to talking. Exchanged numbers. We’ve been chatting. She made a habit of asking about you—“

“Asking about me?” Castiel’s brow wrinkled. “How does she even know about me?”

“You came up. Anyway, guess she was just wondering if I knew someone who would suit her friend. Cuz when she asked me out it was definitely a double date. She asked for dinner with you and me and her friend Sakura.”

“What a mess. And in your conversations about me, it never came up that I was gay?”

“No! Come on, it more like what are your hobbies, that kind of thing. I’m telling you, she was fishing for her friend. We got caught. Reeled in. Don’t fight the current.”

“ _You_ got pulled in, you mean.”

“Just play along. It’s one night, Cas. And I need this. My balls are blue. And my heart is, too. I’m gonna get depressed or some shit if I don’t get some action.”

“Fine. But you owe me. Big.”

“Yes, Cas, anything you want. Anything at all. You name it.”

Cas knew if that were true, if Dean could keep such a promise, exactly what he would want…he also knew that what he wanted was something Dean could never give. You couldn’t control who you loved. That was a lesson Castiel had learned too many times to deny. 

“Shit. Smile, Cas. They’re here.” Dean nodded in the direction behind Castiel’s right shoulder. He took a breath and turned around in his stool. This was going to be hell.


	2. What Goes Around Comes Around

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Suddenly the tables have turned and instead of Castiel needing to spend a night pretending to be a straight man eager for a hook-up, Dean was now going to be spending the evening pretending to be madly in love with Castiel.

Castiel James was not a superstitious man. He never worried about luck or fate or even the Hand of God. He certainly only believed in karma philosophically. Sure, he followed the Golden Rule and treated others as he wished to be treated, but he did so simply because it was the right thing to do--not because he worried about karmic backlash. At least that’s how he felt until twenty minutes ago.

Cas had been a wreck, his stomach threatening to turn as he watched Hinata and her lovely friend Sakura head toward their table. Dean hopped up, excited, smiling, eager, and it was all that Castiel could do to stand up and bow. And then Hinata started formal introductions in Japanese because Sakura--her _girlfriend--_ was still struggling to master conversational English. Suddenly the tables turned and instead of Castiel needing to spend a night pretending to be a straight man eager for a hook-up, Dean was now going to be spending the evening pretending to be madly in love with Castiel.

This night couldn’t get any better. Even if Castiel had to continue to apologize and bow to strangers in the men’s room while Dean finished up his meltdown.

“I can’t believe this, man. How could she even think you and me are an item! I’ve clearly spent the week flirting with her.”

“Well, you apparently spent much of the week also ‘saying many sweet things about your dear partner.”

“So I told her some stuff about you, Cas. It was just business. Making small talk. Being chummy.”

“What kind of chummy small talk includes my love for bees, my patterned socks, and my inability to tie my own tie?” Cas muttured “Kirakira,” and waved his fingers at Dean, recalling Hinata’s story earlier.

“Dammit, Cas. My eyes did not fucking sparkle when I talked about having to fix your damn tie for the millionth time.This is serious. Stop laughing, Cas. My game is clearly off in this country.”

“Ok, ok. I apologize, Dean.” Cas cleared his throat. “This is certainly not humorous, and she’s obviously made a significant error.”

“Yeah, and you coulda corrected her first thing, man. That’s what you’re here for--the finer freaking points of translation.”

“You understand Japanese, Dean. I looked at you for a cue and you were still smiling.” Cas shrugged. “I assumed you wanted to ‘save face,’ so I just went with it.”

“Excuse me for missing some of the damn nuance. I thought she was saying this girl was Sakura, not girlfriend. Fuck!”

“If it bothers you that much, Dean, tell them the truth.”

“Not happening, Cas! Hinata is in charge of a million dollar account. Adler told me I _had_ to lock this account. If Hinata wants to think we’re a couple, and go on some damn gay-ass double date, I ain’t tellin’ her any different.”

“If you’ve made up your mind, then why are you still so upset.”

“It’s just weird, ok? You reached over the table and took my hand. It’s--”

Cas clenched his fists. “You wanted me to spend the night pretending for you. Now, you’re throwing a tantrum about pretending for work? How bad can it be, Dean? It’s just a night. Nobody we know will think you’re pathetic enough to date me. Not for real.” Cas turned around and stomped toward the door. “I’m sure you’ll survive.” Swinging the door open and holding it ajar, he beckoned Dean to exit before him, “Now, if you’re finished with your hissy fit, I believe we are expected to return.”

Dean grabbed Castiel by the wrist and dragged him back inside. “Come on, Cas. Don’t be mad. I’m sorry. It’s not like you have cooties, right?” Dean winked.

“And now you’re suddenly in a joking mood, Dean?”

“Well, I don’t like it when you get pissed at me.” Dean shrugged and looked down at the floor, scuffing his feet against the spotless checkered tiles. “It’s just--like it’s easier to pretend with a stranger. You’re my best friend.” Dean ruffled the hair at his nape anxiously. “I don’t know, man. Feels weird. And I’m not sure what to do, what will go too far, what will make you uncomfortable.” Dean shrugged again and then met Cas’s eyes with a sad stare, “I still wanna be able to call you my best friend in the morning.”

“Dean.” Cas took a deep breath. “Dean, I’m not going to get mad at you. If I can put up with a fake heterosexual date and still call you my best friend, I think I can spend an evening holding your hands and bragging about how wonderful you are.”

“What if it’s not just holding hands? What if they, like, wanna go on a romantic double date and they start kissing and then we--”

“Breathe, Dean. We’ll survive this. I promise, there’s nothing you can do tonight that would make me care for you any less.”

“Even if I slip you some tongue. I told you, I’m horny man.” Dean winked.

Castiel couldn’t help but laugh. “Yes, Dean, even then.”

“And if I grab your ass, you know, like all caught up in the double date.”

“Yes, Dean, even then.”

“All right, Cas. I’m gonna hold you to that.”

“Ok, ok. Let’s go, Dean. They’re waiting.” Castiel said, holding the door open for Dean. Castiel knew Dean was joking and trying to calm things down with a few laughs, but part of him hoped. It would be nice to have Dean as his lover--even if it was for just one night. Even if they were pretending, it would be worth it to kiss Dean just once.

As Dean walked by, he slung a smile over his shoulder and said, “I hope you were tested for cooties recently, Dude.” Dean winked. "Cuz you're about to head for middle-school second base for sure. You better be ready to get felt up."

Cas followed Dean, hoping that his teasing comments came true.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fingers crossed that I can end my (sadness) and my writer's block by writing a little bit here an there. Thanks for your patience, your kudos, your comments. I hope you enjoy. More of these goofballs to come. Dean's love confession is going to (hopefully) be epic.


	3. Tokyo Disney: Happiest Celebration?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is this a date? A Japanese torture chamber? Or Castiel's worst nightmare?

Hinata and Sakura walked hand-in-hand down the boulevard at Westernland. Eyes were drawn to their foursome, and Castiel could hear whispers. He was sure Hinata and Sakura could hear them, too. They were a strange foursome--hard to miss on the thoroughfares of Tokyo Disney.

Hinata and Sakura were all smiles though today because no one suspected the two of _them_ of being a couple. To the eyes of the other Tokyo Disney guests, they were two very attractive Japanese female friends who had managed to attract the attention of two tall, handsome, foreigners. He could here the words whispered, giggled, even screamed all around them. _Senotakai gaijin_. Tall. Handsome. Foreigner.

Two young women. Two Americans. All dressed the same. Blue jeans. Boots. Plaid shirts. Mickey Mouse ears. Heavens, even Dean had a pair of ears on. Last night at dinner, Hinata explained that Japanese couples often went to theme parks. Couples, young couples especially, often bought matching outfits on dates to demonstrate that they were together.  Apparently Hinata and Sakura had been hoping to have this experience for years now. When Dean heard that, he jumped on the idea, insisting that he and Cas could provide cover for them. According to Dean, they could all go on a double-date _again_ , let Hinata and Sakura have the time of their life, and make this dream come true. When Hinata and Sakura smiled over last night’s final toast, Castiel was sure of two things: one, Sandover was about to land another major account and two, Castiel was in for another day of uncomfortable pretending.

They picked the girls up at 9 a.m. and he’d been pretending ever since in some hellish layer upon layer of pretence. Castiel was pretending outwardly to be dating Sakura, for whom he was pretending to be dating Dean, for whom he was pretending _not_ to be in love because both Dean and much of the Japanese public at Tokyo Disney would have been horrified to know how he felt for the man.

Castiel felt dizzied and nauseous over all the turns of logic this day required. Sakura continued to call the day “Operation Ferris Wheel,” and Castiel agreed--the day was more of a wild, emotional ride than he ever bargained for. Still, he played along. These two lovely women were hoping for a picture-perfect evening, like the one they saw on film and TV so often: a couple in love, dressed the same, smiling and kissing on a Ferris Wheel.

Castiel was loathe to ruin this moment for them. They were so happy, so free in their affection. To the spectators around them, Hinata and Sakura were merely very chummy, happy friends with two foreign boyfriends. And those boyfriends were the center of attention because they stuck out like sore thumbs.

Hinata and Sakura gloried in the redirection of attention. They cuddled on rides. They remained linked arm-in-arm. They laughed and hugged and held hands under the table at park restaurants. And now they were on their way to the Ferris Wheel in Fantasyland. A cozy ending for their wonderful date.

Castiel sighed quietly and rubbed at his temple. Dean and Castiel... They did not cuddle. They did not walk arm-in-arm. They didn’t share a hug or so much as a laugh. They didn’t speak. Instead, Castiel spent the day in his head, with his own dark thoughts. Dean and he had barely shared a smile, except when Hinata and Sakura were looking directly at them.

Given that Castiel and Dean were playing boyfriend-chaperones, they remained behind the couple nearly all day, so the smiles--fake as they were--were rare. And nearly all day, Dean’s face remained abnormally stoic, as though he were slightly in pain. Perhaps he had a pounding headache, too. Castiel didn’t have the heart to ask. If he’d known that pretending to love him, pretending to date him would hurt Dean so much, he never would have allowed this farce. God, when they went on rides together, and the ladies expected them to canoodle, Dean looked like he might be sick. The most intimacy Dean could manage was pressing their thighs together and occasionally holding hands. But his muscles were tense and his palms sweaty. Knowing that Dean hated the idea of them as a couple--it was harder to accept than Castiel had imagined. Harder than he had prepared for.

For years, he’d remained by Dean’s side. Silent. In love. Unwilling to risk their friendship. He’d known all along--of course, he’d known--that Dean could never love him the same way, but it was hard for him to accept that the idea was so repugnant to Dean. This man could be sexuallly intimate with anyone, yet the idea of a relationship with Cas made him suffer? It hurt. This entire day hurt. For both of them. But it would be over soon.

What worried Castiel was how much else would be over when the date drew to an end.  

Castiel's thoughts were interrupted when Sakura squealed with excitement.

“There it is,” she said, pointing at the Ferris Wheel. She hopped and pulled Hinata along. Hinata smiled wide, so clearly thrilled. The two girls were so happy, they nearly glowed. Their happiness was overwhelming, bright, warm, beautiful. Castiel couldn’t even find it in himself to be jealous.

“Sakura, even when we get to the Ferris Wheel, we’ll need to wait in line.”

“I know. That’s what I’m excited about.” She winked at Hinata, “You know how much I love anticipation.”

Hinata blushed.

“Besides, we can take some photos while we’re in line.” Sakura winked, “Operation Ferris Wheel is a day to remember.”

They approached the line and more whispers started around them. Hinata, Sakura, and Dean seem unbothered to be under the eye of so many others. Castiel pulled his trenchcoat around himself. Pink plaid was lovely on the ladies and on Dean, but he felt the clothes made the farce even more challenging for himself. Hinata insisted on pink plaids that morning, because pink was the shade of blushing, of interest. Sakura had chimed in with a wink and said it was the color of lust. Hinata and Sakura wanted eachother. Dean wanted Hinata. But no one wanted Castiel. He would be tempted to burn this shirt when all was said and done. The same with these blasted ears. They were playful. Cute. Fun. Absolutely nothing at all in common with how this day went for him.

Castiel glanced up at the tall Ferris Wheel. He could see couple after couple getting on the ride. The majority of them sat side by side unbalancing their cart. Many of them were likely kissing when they reached at the top, as Hinata and Sakura planned to do. He remembered Dean’s teasing yesterday about middle-school cuddling, and his stomach churned again. He dug in his coat pocket and grabbed another antacid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a bit of a cliff-hanger. This story grows more angsty than I originally anticipated. Sorry. Let me know what you think, ok?


	4. What Goes Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ... Must come down. The Ferris Wheel returns the lovers back to the ground! (Ferris Wheels Suck)

Dean slammed his hotel door, thankful for the first time _ever_ that Sandover was dickish enough to waste money so that high-ranking employees never shared lodging. Cas called it ‘strategically ostentatious.’ The adorable little nerd found _all_ human behavior interesting and would launch into a mini lecture about conspicuous consumption whenever Dean complained about the company putting them on separate floors.

Normally Dean grumbled about not sharing a room with Cas, no matter how many times Cas explained _We have separate rooms, Dean, because Sandover needs to look successful in the eyes of our competition._ Blah blah blah, especially since they often ended up crashing in each other’s rooms anyway, falling asleep after watching tv or whatever. But tonight… Dean breathed a sigh a relief leaning on the closed door that separated them.

He had never felt the need to be away from Cas. Never. Not until tonight. He just needed some room and some time to put this whole day in behind them. He hoped Cas would do the same. Forgive and Forget, but,  shit, Cas was probably having a field day trying to analyze Dean right now.

Dean grit his teeth again against another sudden and surprising (make that embarrassing) urge to cry. Taking a deep breath, Dean walked into the room and yanked off his jacket, tossing it on the floor. He ripped at the placket of his pink shirt, not caring that the buttons flew across the room. He needed to get this costume off. When he finished wrenching the shirt from his wrists, Dean angrily slammed the damned thing in the trash. The Mickey mouse ears were already at the bottom of the trash bin in the hotel lobby. After Hinata and Sakura dropped him and Cas off, he got rid of the ears as soon as he could. Cas had done the exact same thing, as he scurried away from Dean and into the nearest elevator. Dean hadn’t been able to say a word to Cas, especially when Cas was in such a hurry to run up to his own room on a different floor.

In truth, Dean hadn’t been in a rush to catch up and he hadn’t wanted to talk. What could he have said?

Fuck.

The ride in the Ferris Wheel had been as turtorous as he’d expected. Dean and Sandover could thank the girls’ happiness for their inattention to Dean and Cas. It was obvious that Cas was miserable. And, apparently, Dean couldn’t even _fake_ flirting with Castiel.

Dean loved Cas. More than anyone. Hell, more than his own foster family. He’d lived with them from four to eighteen, and he stayed in touch. He called Ellen once a month, sent weekly texts to Jo, and always went back home at Christmas time. But Cas was different.

He’d die for that guy. Hell, Dean might have a coronary if he couldn’t talk to him every day. They were joined at the hip, and Dean wanted things to stay that way.

But he didn’t want _more._

Sex and love: in Dean’s book, those two didn’t go together. Fucking was a bodily need. Like exercising or eating three squares a day. Dean ate his leafy greens, and he took his supplements. And he screwed around. Safely. Dean cleaned his pipes on the regular, the same way he did all the stuff his body needed him to do to stay sharp. But Cas wasn’t part of that.

Cas was the person he cared about most. The person he always wanted around. Cas was his best friend.

Shit, Cas was the best part of his life. They had fun. They laughed. They kept each other happy. And he wasn’t gonna fuck around with Cas the way he did with any random body that got him hard. Duh. Decision made. Done Deal. No Debate.  

But at the top of the Ferris Wheel, Sakura had winked, saying it was “kiss time” and Dean had leaned in toward Castiel, copying Hinata and Sakura. He wanted to pretend and play along, secure the deal for Sandover. And, maybe, for one moment he wanted a kiss. God, Castiel had looked … hopeful. Cas was great at reading other people, and there was no one who knew Dean better. He’d probably seen… Fuck it. Dean could admit it now. He _would_ admit it now. For a moment, Cas had seen love and desire in Dean’s expression.

Dean did love him. He also thought Cas was the hottest guy _\--person--_ he’d ever met, but that didn’t mean he ever planned to do anything about it.

But if they wanted to close this deal and head back home, they just had to play their parts for a few hours more, so Dean had palmed Cas’s cheek and leaned in, and... Stupid. He was so stupid.

Dean had nosed at Castiel’s cheek, turning away just enough that Hinata and Sakura--who were clearly distracted--would never suspect they weren’t truly kissing. Castiel had actually whimpered.

He’d been so eager... and then so disappointed.

Dean scrubbed his face with his palms. His heart seemed to have plummeted to his stomach and refused to budge for the last hour. He worried he might actually be sick. Dean hadn’t thought the day could get any worse. But he hadn’t known about the confessions tradition, not until they were on their way back down.

With her arms around Sakura, Hinata explained, “Couples kiss at the top.” With a soft blush and downcast eyes, she said, “Couples kiss… and, if they confess mutual love before they reach the bottom...” She smiled but couldn’t seem to say the words.

Sakura must have noticed her struggle. She took hold of Hinata’s hands and said, “They’ll be together forever.” Then the two women whispered _I love you_ to each other, and then kept smiling with only eyes for one another.

They kept going down, the wheel pausing every few moments to give other folks a chance at the top, and Dean had watched the end of the ride approach with mixed feelings of relief and anxiety. And then Cas…

More than an hour later, and Dean still wasn’t sure if Castiel was motivated by helping Dean to continue his ruse or desperate enough to take this one opportunity to admit his feelings. He grabbed Dean’s hands, and when Dean’s eyes finally met his, he said, “I love you, Dean.”

Shaking his head to disrupt the memory, Dean walked over to the dresser and rummaged through his t-shirts. Slinging one on over his head, he tried to ignore his need to replay the whole day. He needed to put this behind him. If he wanted to remain Cas’s friend, he needed a fucking damage-control plan. And looking back wasn’t gonna cut it. He had to make himself and Cas believe today was a weird misadventure and move on. But Cas…

God, after he’d said those words, Dean just wished he’d take ‘em back, but Cas had stared at Dean with such longing. And Dean knew what he wanted. They’d told each other I love you before. They said it at least once a year. Shit happens, and you’ve gotta man up and tell your best friend what he means to you. But on the Ferris Wheel… What Cas wanted Dean to mean when he said it back… it wasn’t brotherly love. Shit. It wasn’t something Dean could do. Dean had finally just said, “I know.”

Dean rubbed at his eyes trying push the memory out of them, but he couldn’t stop re-seeing the minutes where Cas’s eyes desparately searched Dean’s face for a clue to understand his response. Cas was a major tactician, the guy could think a million thoughts an hour, and Dean saw each thought flash by, all clear and legible on Cas’s usually stoic poker face.

_Was Dean play acting? Was he pulling a Han Solo? He knew Dean could play the part of a boyfriend who didn’t say the words back, and that Han Solo was one of Dean’s obsessions. Did the words have no meaning at all? Where they just a line in his performance today? Or was Dean telling him in their own code that he loved Cas the same way? Did Dean love Cas the way that Han loved Leia? Could he mean that he loved Cas back? Or . . ._ and this was the look that haunted Dean the most _Had Dean known how Castiel felt about him before today? And if that was true… how_ long _had Dean known? Was Dean ignoring how Cas felt? How long had he pretended not to know that Cas was in love with him?_

Cas had looked so hurt. So betrayed. The thing was: Dean had _never_ known. He sometimes _suspected_ that Cas wanted more. But he didn’t _know_. Not until today. Hell, he still wasn’t a hundred percent certain.

Sure. It was hard not to notice the few times Cas flinched at something Dean said about a hookup. Over the years, there were rare moments when Cas’s cool facade slipped and he _seemed_ jealous. But Dean didn’t know for sure, and he’d hoped he was wrong, so he never did look too closely.

How could he explain this to Cas?

Dean pulled at his hair and groaned. What a fucking nightmare. And all because, what, he wanted to hook-up with Hinata? Because he wanted to bring in another big deal for Sandover?

What a fuck up.

That shit meant nothing to him--not compared to _Cas_.

Fuck.

He needed a drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for returning to read after the delay. I've been writing while away, but depression and a tough job made creativity difficult and posting on schedule impossible. Thanks in advance for kudos and comments. It feels good to have some feedback. <3


	5. Drinks are on Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bad feelings and Booze. This is definitely gonna work out!

Three hours later. Dean has demolished all the alcohol in his mini-bar, two room-service cocktails, and a six-pack brought in by a well-tipped bellhop. 

He still isn’t drunk enough. So, he’s headed to the hotel bar. 

The elevator dings when it reaches the ground floor, and Dean opens his eyes. He lets go of the hand rail and makes his way into a lobby that is, thankfully, ready for the evening crowd: soft piano music, dimmed lights, cascading water fountains and decorative fake candles. Dean follows the signs for the bar, keeping close to the wall whenever he encounters steps.  With the wall on his side, his balance can’t betray him like it did on the way down here. He does  _ not _ plan on tripping over stairs anymore tonight. 

When Dean walks into the nearly empty bar, he’s grateful there’s only a weekday crowd. Only a few people at tables. The stools he can see at the bar from the entrance are empty. Thank God. Dean needs peace and quiet tonight. 

At least that’s how he feels until he walks halfway through the room and finally sees Cas sitting at the edge of the bar. He’s clearly already several drinks in. Empty glasses are stacked in front of him, and he looks...

Shit. Dean should turn around right the fuc--

Too late.

Cas’s eyes meet his from across the bar and there is nowhere to hide. 

Dean takes a deep breath and reminds himself that this is  _ Cas _ . His best friend. He’s definitely gonna have to have a heart to heart with the guy. That damned Ferris Wheel made it impossible to pretend they didn’t need to talk about their… their  _ feelings _ , or whatever. If Dean treats this like a normal night out, they might never get through the Tokyo Tragedy of 2018. But Dean could man up. Talk it out. They could get past this. 

Dean walks up to the stool next to Cas. He tries to approach with his usual smirk and stagger.

But when he tosses out a “Heya, Cas,” Cas replies with a thin-lipped smile. 

He lowers his eyes and raises his nearly empty glass. “Hello, Dean.”

The barkeep walks up with a bow and welcomes Dean, and Cas drains his glass and tells the man he’ll have another. His eyes drop back to the bar.

“I’ll have what he’s having,” Dean says, nodding his chin at Cas’s hand.

“Whiskey,” the man replies stretching out the sound,  _ wuh-hiskey. _

Cas doesn’t reply, and he doesn’t say anything to Dean either. 

Dean pulls out the bar stool next to Cas perches on it, trying not to panic.

The first night they had drinks at a bar in Japan, Cas had spent almost an hour boring Dean with the ins and outs of asian phonemes.  _ Did Dean know that Japanese and Chinese had no consonant-only syllables? Did he know that’s why most people they meet in this region say Cas-uh instead of Cas?  _ He’d gone on and on with language and cultural trivia.  _ Did Dean know that there is no native Chinese speaker who would ever say ‘solly’ instead of ‘sorry’ because Mandarin has distinct l and r sounds? And did Dean know that many old movies had Chinese characters make mispronunciations like  _ solly _ with accents that were culturally and linguistically only possible for native speakers of Korean and Japanese? _

Dean hadn’t known any of that, and--except for the buzz he got watching Cas get all passionate and nerdy-- he didn’t really care to know it. But, God, Dean would give anything for Cas to talk like that tonight. Dean waited, debating if he could ask about the guy’s pronunciation of  _ whiskey _ right now, but Cas was terrifyingly silent. 

“So,” Dean coughs, “Crazy day, huh?”

“Yes, a very odd day,” Cas replies still staring into his empty drink glass. 

“I had no idea that Japan had so many dating rituals. Did you?” 

Cas shook his head. 

“I mean, did you know that they had that whole couples-clothes thing before today?”

Cas shook his head  _ no  _ again. But he didn’t look up. Dean usually hated how the two of them got teased for all their staring before, but its absence made their long looks feel essential now. Dean almost  _ needed _ Cas to look at him.

“Did you know that Ferris Wheels and amusement parks were, like, traditional dating spots, Cas?”

“No, I didn’t know any of that before, Dean,” Cas said, still not meeting his eyes.

“It’s pretty interesting right, Cas?”

“Yes, Dean, it’s pretty interesting.”

Dean coughed again, and blew out a puff of air. He was going for it. He was gonna man up and talk this shit out. “But none of it’s as interesting as what happened between the two of us on that Ferris Wheel, right, Cas?” He’d used as sincere a tone as he was capable of. One hundred percent earnest. No jokes. No smirks. Just an honest question.

And it worked.

Cas looked up. His eyes were a little less haunted. Maybe a little hopeful. He even offered a one-sided smile.

Dean stared back openly. He didn’t look down. He didn’t wink. He wasn’t gonna make light of this. Not if Cas was torn up about it. So he didn’t look away and he remained serious.

Cas’s smile slowly grew until it was at least two-sided. The smile didn’t make it all the way to his eyes, but it was warm, and his eyes were soft again.

“So, Dean, you’ve decided we’re ready for ‘The Talk’.”

“Don’t use air quotes, man. You know I hate that.”

“No, you don’t.”

“All right, all right. I don’t.” Dean shrugged. “But I guess it is time for us to talk. Yeah.”

“Do you think we’re likely to have a productive conversation when we’re both halfway to being blackout drunk?”

“Your tolerance is ridiculous, man. You’ve never even  _ gotten _ blackout drunk. You probably can’t even be that drunk. How would you know you’re halfway there?”

“I have not been tested for the ALDH2 gene, but even if I had a genetic tolerance for alcohol, I could still become inebriated. Did you know that if a person wants to overcome a genetic tolerance for alcohol they must simply drink a certain ratio per hour with patience? There aren’t that many variables and it’s a simple algorithm.”

Dean chuckled, happy to have a script he new some of the lines for. “No, Cas, I didn’t know that.” 

“By my calculations, I have another three hours of drinking at this current rate before I don’t recall certain portions of this evening.

Dean scrubbed the back of his neck, nervous. “Are you hoping to forget ‘certain portions of this evening’?”

“Did you just use air quotes, Dean?”

“Maybe. Just answer my question. Do you wanna forget?”

“Maybe.”

“Depends on…”

“You answer my question first, Dean. Do you think we’re likely to have a productive conversation when we’re both halfway to being blackout drunk?”

“Yeah,” Dean shrugged. “We’ll both be honest tonight. I’m kinda scared about having the talk. You probably are, too. A few drinks more might help with that. And it’ll only be unproductive if we get to the blackout part.”

“So you suggest we get drunk?”

“Drunk. Drunker.” Dean shakes his head. “I don’t care if we keep drinking or if we stop. Whatever.” Dean shrugs again. “Whatever you wanna do, Cas.”

“Is there any certainty that this conversation will end with our having breakfast in the morning, holding hands, and smiling about how a night of lovemaking has turned us into the sappiest couple ever?”

“Damn, Cas. When you go for it, you don’t hold back, do ya?”

“I’m Sandover’s Number One Negotiator for a reason.”

“Only Sometimes.” Dean argues, because pointless bickering is one of their things, and Dean doesn’t want to let go of who they are just yet.

“Most of the time,” Cas returns, lifting his eyebrow.

“Ok, most of the time. But sometimes I am number one.” Dean adds with a grin.

The barkeep comes over a quietly delivers their drinks.

“So?” Dean asks, pointing at their glasses. “Keep drinking?”

“Can you guarantee what my morning will look like that, Dean?”

“No.” Dean says, shaking his head and dropping his own eyes from a mix of fear and shame. 

When he looks back up, Cas offers a small smile, soft, loving, but his eyes are sad.

Cas grabs his glass and raises it in a solute. “Then we keep drinking.” He tosses back a large swallow. 

“If we get the giggles, we gotta stop.” Dean insists, taking a drink.

Cas nods. “ _ You _ should switch to beer after this,” he says, and raises his glass to take another large drink. “That is, if  _ you  _ don’t want to forget certain parts of this evening, Dean”

“All right, Cas.” Dean says, not sure what tomorrow morning will look like or even what his next drink will be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Until further edits come . . . this ends in a cliff hanger. And things get darker. There WILL be a happy ending, but it's only drafted right now. So this is warning to wait if you need a happy resolution right now. <3


	6. I wanna Get off this Ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Serious Words and final drinks. Will be destiel be canon?

“You’re talking like I’m some of kind of catch,” Dean says, two hours and several beers later.

“You’re loyal. You’re kind.” Cas begins, raising a finger to count attributes as he goes on, “You’re hardworking. You never give up. You make sure I’m never lonely. You’re funny. You’re smart. Well-read. Well-traveled. Compassionate.” When Cas has no fingers left to count on he just whispers, “You’re beautiful” and gives up with a shrug.  

“You’re listing things like they mean something, like they mean I’m perfect. You know me, Cas. I’m not husband material.”

“When did I ask you to get married, Dean?”

Dean goes on, uninterrupted, “I can’t do a picket fence life. PTA meetings and pet fish and--” 

“Why would being my husband mean you need to go to school meetings and have pets?”

Dean locks his eyes with Cas and focuses hard on not slurring his words. “You gotta be realistic, Cas. People get married to have kids.” Dean takes another drink from his beer bottle.  “That’s the whole point. ”

“So you’re certain the only person you  _ might _ marry is female? Because you’re going to marry only to have children?”

“No, I just mean--”

“You expect marriage and family to go hand-in-hand, Dean, you--”

“You saying gay guys can’t adopt? Come on, Cas!”

“Of course, gay couples adopt, but--”

“Yeah, and their first stop into family town is a fucking marriage!”

“I still don’t know when I asked you to marry me!” Cas says, finally reaching Dean’s volume level.

“You’re the happily ever after type, Cas. You and I both know it.”

“So, you wouldn’t kiss me on the Ferris Wheel because, what, Dean, you thought we’d de-board and I would insist that we head straight to a chapel on our way to the nearest adoption agency?”

“No, Cas. I didn’t think that kissing you would lead to marriage or babies or whatever.” Dean giggles. “I mean, my kisses are amazing, but a single one hasn’t gotten anybody pregnant. Yet.”

“I see. So it wasn’t the spectre of marriage on the Ferris Wheel. The mere idea of a single kiss from me disgusted you. I get it.”

“Disgusted? You think..”  Dean leans on the bar, laughing and fighting to catch his breath. Dean pointed a finger at Cas, “You think that I thought…” Dean laughed again. “You gotta be kidding me. There’s no way I thought kissing you would be disgusting. You’re unbelievably hot. Have you  _ seen _ you?”

“I have a mirror, yes. I understand that my proportions and facial symmetry makes me attractive to many people, but… but--”

“Yeah,” Dean said, cutting him off. “You’ve got a nice butt, too.” 

“However, why would I assume you thought me attractive. You’ve never flirted with me. Never. And you flirt with  _ anything _ you find moderately pleasing.” 

Dean leans in with a shy grin. “I’ve wanted to fuck you since the first day we met. Shit, I gotta tell ya. You, my friend, have starred in more of my sexual fantasies than  _ Dr. Sexy  _  or Murasaki, the Busty Asian Centerfold of January 2012, combined.”

“January 2013.” Castiel corrected in a daze. 

“That’s why I love you man, you always remember that kind of shit.”

“It’s not memory, Dean. You’ve mentioned Murasaki often.”

“Right, but seriously, if my spank bank were, you know, sectioned off like a Blockbuster video shop, the Cas section would be the biggest one. You know what I mean?”

When Cas didn’t answer. Dean leaned closer and squinted to make sure he could make out Cas’s features.

“Cas, you ok? 

“If you found me attractive the first day we met, why didn’t you pursue it?”

“I did. I flirted big time. But you were like a dead zone. No moves made it past your defenses. Once I got over being rejected, you were kinda cute. This little nerd focused on the big deal we were working on.” Dean shrugged. “I don’t know, I started to want you more as a friend than as a fuck buddy. Never changed the fact that you make my dick hard. You’re hot, Cas. That’s a fact.”

Dean finished his beer and realized Cas was still staring off into space.

“Why do you look like you saw a ghost or something, Cas? Did I skeeve you out?”

“Skeeve?”

“Yeah, weird you out. I didn’t think me telling you would scare you or anything.”

“You’ve had too much to drink. You’re saying things you can’t mean.” 

“I do mean it, man. I didn’t wanna tell you before. I love ya. You’re my best friend. I didn’t want to complicate shit.”

Cas looked away and stared at nothing, shaking his head.

“Why are you freaking out. You know I have the hots for all kinds of people. You’ve heard me say all kinds of shit about my sex life.”

“But you’ve never had sex with me, Dean. You--”

“Course not!”

“What do you mean, of course not? If you found me attractive, then--”

“You’re my best friend. No way, was I gonna throw that away for a roll in the hay.”

“You think I would have held your interest for only a single night, Dean?”

“Nah. Shit, me and Benny went a couple months, right?”

“Eight months, two weeks, and three days.”

“Man, see, what I mean, your mind is like a steel trap. You’re amazing. You remember all kinds of trivia. ”

“Your relationship with Benny wasn’t trivial to me.”

“Well, anyway, if me and Benny went eight months, you and me definitely got at least nine in us.” Dean snorted on a laugh. Oh shit. He’d reached the giggle stage.

“So you think we couldn’t make it a year, Dean?”

“It was a bad joke, Cas. I’m sorry.”

“Not funny, Dean. You shouldn’t laugh about that.”

“I know. I’ll stop drinking. I’m really sorry, but the point is, what I had with Benny was fun while it lasted, but when it was over, it was over. But it can’t  _ ever _ be over with you.” 

“Do you want it to be over? You’re afraid I’ll tie you down or something?

“Nah, no way. I  _ need _ you, Cas. It can’t be over with you.”

“I really don’t understand, Dean. And it hurts not understanding.” Cas took a deep breath and sighed, rubbing at his eyes. “I need to stop drinking, too. I feel weepy.” 

Dean nodded his head.

Cas sighed. “Explain, Dean.”

“Life is like going to a convenience station for the stuff you need, right? We’re all on a long drive toward the ends of our life. And we make these pit stops.”

“What?”

“It’s a metaphor.”

“I’m familiar with the concept.”

“I’m a pit stop? Or Benny was a pit stop? I don’t follow.”

“Life is pit stops, Cas. You’re someone I need. Benny isn’t.”

“Okay,” Cas says, still not understanding. 

“Like, ok, when I’m on a road trip to visit Ellen, Bobby, and Jo. Or when you and me are going on one of our weekend trips whenever we finally get time off. We make a pit stop. The only thing I  _ need _ from the place is the gas. But I usually go in, get some jerky, some cheap overly sweet coffee, some of those hostess fruit pies, maybe some peanuts.” Dean smiles and leans forward. “I treat the station likes its a grocery. I make a lot of bad decisions. Eat a lot of shit I wouldn’t normally touch. But I’m not fueling my body, you know, I’m fueling the car. I could get better groceries anywhere, and I do usually. When I’m home, I eat out at fine restaurants a lot, get take away from all kinds of places, make my own smoothies, whatever. I get enough variety that I can throw some fun junk in, too.”

“I’m confused. What am I in this metaphor, Dean, the gas station food or the smoothies you make or what?”  

“You’re not any of the food, Cas. That’s what I’m saying. Don’t you get it?”

“No, I don’t get it. Why is it  _ always _ food metaphors with you?” Cas says, frustrated.

“Cuz food’s awesome and the body needs it, but the body doesn’t really care what food you feed it. Do you get it?”

“No. Please, one more time.”

“Like, ok, some people are allergic to gluten, right? Or they have peanut allergies or they’re vegetarians, right? And other people, can eat whatever the hell they want. Body doesn’t really care.”

“Diabetes and morbid obesity would seem to disagree with you, Dean.”

“I knew you’d get it! STDs!” Dean said, slamming his fist on the bar.

“Dean! Seriously, what are you talking about? Make it simple. We’re both drunk. Use the word equal or something.”

“Ok, so eating equals having sex. The body needs that, right?”

“Ignoring the asexual spectrum, voluntary celibacy, and the last five years of my life, sure, I’ll agree that  _ your _ body seems to need to sex.”

“Exactly, the body  _ needs _ sex and food. But we don’t need a particular thing. People can choose from any menu they want. We each have our preferences, our personal tastes. We dine at our own risk if we’re not careful. Some people are picky. Some people aren’t. Some folks like the same lunch day after day. Some people need a buffet.”

“Ah, I see. You need a various buffet, and I’m, what, white rice or something?”

“No, Cas. You’re the gas.” Dean laughed so hard he almost fell out of his chair. “Cas is gas. Shit, that rhymes. Awesome.”

“I give you gas? I’m  _ legumes _ ?” Cas hissed. “I’m trying not to be angry, Dean, I know you’re only luaghing  because of the alcohol. But I  _ need _ to understand this.”

Dean wiped the smile from his face. “No, Cas, you’re not  _ beans _ . You’re the gas for my car. You’re the only thing I really need from the whole place to keep going. The rest of the stuff I pick up, I can take it or leave it. Find something different or better or forget all about it altogether. Benny, beef jerky. I like ‘em, but I don’t need ‘em. I  _ need _ you.”

“You said the body needs sex and food, Dean.” Cas said, tiredly.

“You’re the one who came from a religious household, Cas. You telling me you think I’m worried about my body first?”

“So I’m for your spirit, Dean?” Cas said ironically. “Hard to believe you could be that earnestly sappy no matter how much you’ve had to drink.”

Dean shrugged. “It’s getting late. I’m drunk. Call it what you want. I need you. It’s as simple as that.”

“Dean, if that’s true, don’t you see… that... that’s what love is supposed to be about. An almost spiritual connection. Soul mates. People get married because they want to bind themselves together with the person they  _ need _ .”

“God, don’t even say the word marriage. I can’t imagine anything worse. Tied down, living on a schedule with school plays and soccer practices, vet visits, spaghetti for dinner every Friday night--”

“Here we go with the food analogies again.”

“Whatever, Cas, what I’m saying is … that kind of life. It’s boring. It’s predictable. I couldn’t do it. That’s a terrible life, man.”

“You’re already living a terrible life, Dean.”

“What are you talking about? I’m Director of Sales and Marketing.”

“But you wake up every morning at 6 a.m. It’s Friday back home, so you’d make a kale smoothie for breakfast. You’ll eat a salad at your desk for lunch.”

“We go get a burger sometimes.”

“Yeah, when I drag you out of that place. Otherwise you’d be there 7 days a week!”

“I’m ambitious, Cas. I’m carving my own path at Sandover.”

“Yeah, I know, Dean, in a few more years you’ll be Senior V.P. Eastern great lakes division. I’ve heard it all before. It doesn’t change the fact that, with the exception of the few hours between 10 p.m and 2 a.m., I can tell you  _ exactly _ where you’ll be and  _ exactly _ what you’ll be doing.”

“I’m not predictable. I hook up with random--” 

“2 a.m., your walk of shame is complete. You finally return home” Cas insisted, interrupting Dean. “You brush your teeth. Wash your face, Put on Verso night cream and get your required four hours of sleep. 6:30 a.m. wake up. Blend a smoothie and steam soy milk for your espresso. Read the paper. Check your emails. In to work by 8.”

“Ok, Cas. You’ve made your point.” 

“Hit the lobby for a morning break at 11. Flirt with Lisa as she makes you an acai bowl with extra nuts--wink wink--even though you’ll never date her because how could you get your antioxidant fix if you ‘tapped that and didn’t put a ring on it’”

“I get it, dude. I’m dull. Chill.”

“Make phone calls, go to meetings. 2 p.m. Order in a salad from Crowley's. This is a Friday, so back home that would be Chicken and Spinach.”

“Cas, stop!”

“What are you worried about, Dean? The part where, at the end of the day, you always leave with the same person. Castiel Novak. Same guy. Night after night. Some nights out. Some nights in. But it’s always Castiel Novak. Except for the few hours you put your dick in some faceless--”

“Stop! Fuck!” Dean yells, slamming his fist down on the bar.

“Dean, I’m sorry. I--” Cas tries to pat Dean’s shoulder.

“No, Cas, you made your point. I’m my own ball and chain. I heard you. Loud and clear.”

“No, I didn’t mean--”

“Guess I should call you my work husband huh? Instead of my friend, right? Who knows how you put up with my boring, predictable ass all these years. ”

“No-- Dean, I--”

“You should go, Cas,” Dean said, nodding his chin at the door. “We’ve both had way too much to drink.”

“Dean, I--”

“See you tomorrow, Cas.” Dean insisted.


	7. Can't Fight this Feeling (of nausea) Anymore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a wild ride and even wilder night of drinking, Dean stumbles into work suffering the lingering affects of mild alcohol poisoning...things can't any get worse...until they do.

On Monday morning, Dean walked into work alone. 

He’d been texting Cas since Sunday afternoon, an hour or so after he’d woken up half-hungover and half-suffering from alcohol poisoning.

When Cas didn’t reply after the first dozen texts, he decided to give the guy some space. He spent Sunday by himself, trying to keep down sports drinks and chicken broth . . . and panicking quietly in his room.  

But then Monday morning came, and there was still no reply. 

Dean tried texting an hour before they were scheduled to report to the Toyko field office with a casual,  _ Hey, you wanna grab some breakfast?  _ After thirty minutes of radio silence, Dean tried  _ No problem. That’s cool. I’ll get room service before heading out. Wanna ride in together? We can take the train again if you want. Let me know.  _ Dean hoped that volunteering to ride with the masses today instead of taking their company car would draw Cas out of his silence. Cas loved riding the trains here. But no such luck. No text. No knock on his door. Nada.

Cas must have taken the train in by himself because he hadn’t requested a car. Dean checked. 

Walking through the building, Dean looked for Cas each time he turned a corner. But Cas wasn’t at the coffee machine or the copier. He wasn’t talking with anyone else in the halls or asking the secretary to start paperwork for the deal he and Dean had all but guaranteed on Saturday. 

Each step closer to their office, Dean’s heart rate climbed. He wasn’t sure if he was more worried about seeing Cas with their feelings still unresolved between them or of  _ not _ seeing Cas. Nothing could have happened to him since Saturday, right? There wasn’t a lot of crime in Tokyo, and Cas could handle his drinks. No way the guy was waiting in a ditch somewhere, right? 

Dean finally reached their temporary office area. When he was close enough to peer around the cubicle barrier, his heart was beating like he’d run a marathon. 

Empty.

Not a sign of Cas anywhere. 

Dean panicked. 

Running back toward the secretary, he pulled out his phone and dialed Cas’s number.

Should he have checked on Cas yesterday? Cas continued to drink whiskey all night after Dean switched over to beer. And if Dean got that sick… could Cas…? 

There was no way that Cas was actually hurt or… or… dead or something right? Could people die from a night of binge drinking?

Cas’s phone went to voicemail. Dean tried ringing his room.

“Ritz-Carlton, Tokyo. How may I help?”

“Uh. Hi. Hi. Um. I’m looking for Castiel Novak. I thought I called his room, but--”

“Yes, sir. Your call was redirected to the front desk.”

“Right, because he didn’t pick up. I’m worried he can’t get to his phone. Could you check on him please?”

“Sir, Castiel Novak is no longer a guest with us.”

“What?”

“I’m afraid I cannot say more, sir.”

“I’m Dean. Dean Winchester. Room 618. We were under the same reservation. Did he… did he leave?”

“I see. You are both under the Sandover registration.”

“Yeah.”

“Mr. Winchester, Mr. Novak checked out last early this morning, around 3:30.”

“He what?” 

“Yes, sir. He checked out at 3:38, and …” 

Dean could hear typing and clicking.

“He was taken to Narita.”

“He went to the airport?”

“Yes, sir.”

Dean hung up. He didn’t even bother with a thank you. He couldn’t.

Shit. Was Cas really that pissed?


	8. Just Keep Falling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can things get any worse? Yes. Yes, they can. Dean is shocked by Cas's decision.

It took Dean almost a week to finalize his deal with Hinata and her company. A week without Cas. Not so much as a text. No matter how often Dean called his cell or texted him, Cas gave him nothing back. He was freezing Dean out. And it hurt. And then it just pissed him off. And then it hurt some more.

All in all, this week was total bullshit. A stupid job. A stupid deal. And a pretty stupid friend who wouldn’t talk to him. Cas was the smartest person Dean knew, so this adolescent ghosting was hard to swallow. Dean knew Cas had a right to space and a right to be upset. But abandoning Dean 8,000 miles away from home without even a word. Total shit show. Followed by a craptastic 14-hour flight. Alone.

But now he was finally back in the States. Finally back home. Waking up in his own bed. And Dean had never been happier for Monday to arrive. Cas couldn’t hide from him in the office. He could hide from dozens of phone calls and even knocks on his apartment door. He could hide until the landlady called the cops on Dean. But he couldn’t hide from him at Sandover. There might be 13 floors and a couple hundred rooms, but Cas had to do his work, and Dean knew where to look.

Dean tapped his foot staring at the buttons as they lit up on each floor. One, two, three, four, five, six,and _finally_ seven. Leaping out of the elevator, he clipped someone’s shoulder and almost sent them crashing to the ground.

“Shit. I’m sorry, Charlie!” Dean said, catching her before she fell. Once he had her on her feet again, he offered a quick “Sorry. Just in a hurry! Talk to you later,” and headed back down the hall.

“It’s ok, Dean. I totally get it. Freak out already in motion. Come talk to me later if you need to!” She yelled back. At least that’s what Dean thought she said. It didn’t make much sense, but he didn’t have time to worry about the quirky head of IT. Not now. No, he had to see Cas.

“Hey there, Dean-o.” Meg said, with a smarmy smile on her face and stepping in Dean’s way.

“Meg, I don’t have time for your shit today. I really don’t.”

“What? You don’t want to talk to your dear little angel’s former secretary?”

“He fired you?” Dean yelled, shocked. As much as Dean hated Meg, Cas loved her. They got along for reasons Dean _never_ understood. He couldn’t believe Cas was on such a war path that he fired Meg. Shit.

“You think he fired me?” She said cocking her head, mimicking Cas’s head tilt. “Oh no, this is even sweeter than I thought it would be.” Her grin spread wide on her face. She was pleased as fuck about something.

“Get out of my way, Meg.” He said, angrily spitting each word.

“Wait, Dean-o. You don’t wanna read the letter Cas left for you when he quit?”

Dean’s mouth dropped open. “What do you mean he _quit_?”

With a large grin, Meg leaned forward and took Dean’s hand. Flipping it over, she dropped an envelope in his open palm.

Looking down, he saw _Dean_ in Cas’s clean, looping script.

Meg clapped Dean on the shoulder. “I almost feel sorry for you. It sucks for me that he’s gone. But, damn, it must be _terrible_ for you. He was your boyfriend first.”

As Meg walked away laughing, Dean just shook his head, too shocked to do more than stand there with his mouth open.

Castiel was gone? He quit Sandover. He quit Dean. Had he moved? Jesus. Dean needed to sit down. His head was spinning. Grabbing the nearest chair in an empty cubicle, he tried taking a few of those deep, meditative breaths Cas was always jabbering about. Five counts breathing in. Five breathing out. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Fuuuuuck. This could _not_  be happening.

With trembling hands, Dean opened the letter.

_Dean,_

_I apologize for leaving you in Tokyo without word of my plans. I’m sure you’ve been under a great deal of stress, and you’ve suffered through a transatlantic flight alone. I can only say that my departure was hasty and not well considered. I was upset over what felt like your rejection after a weekend of pretending to have exactly what I always wanted and then...  I’m sorry, Dean._

_On my journey home, I had time to think. Time enough to regret our last days together in Tokyo. I understand it would be unfair to remain angry with you. You have every right to decide whom to love and how to love them. Your friendship is a valuable gift, and I cannot, in good conscience, insist that you feel more for me than you do or more than you are comfortable with. I know that. I do._

_I said things to hurt you, and I regret them. You are a fine man. A wonderful one. You shouldn’t feel shame for your routines, they help you be unpredictable in your chosen field of warfare. I apologize for speaking to you so harshly. Yet, in retrospect those comments … I realize that..._

_Dean, in the years I’ve known you, have I made you very unlike the man you_ want _to be?_

_That night, out of hurt, I ridiculed you for your predictability. But was that not merely proof of what you feared most, that having a ‘husband’ would tie you down? You joked that I was your work husband. I wonder how true you were._

_Was I responsible for your routine at Sandover? Did I force you into a terrible life?_

_I can’t be sure, but I truly fear that I’m not good for you._

_I have always believed that marriage was about love and partnership. Marriage, to me, has always meant being with the rare person whose own joy makes_ you _happy.  And you did make me so happy, Dean. Every time you laughed, each time you smiled, I was happy. Sharing evenings with you and laughter… the last four years have been the happiest of my life._

 _When you made me a listening ear about your personal life and your family back in California, I was happy. I was happy--or at least as happy as I could be--even when you shared stories of your conquests. I was happy being the person I_ thought _was home to you._

_But I was hurting you, in the long run, wasn’t I?_

_I’m sorry, Dean._

_I wish you the best. I’m sure you’ll make an amazing V.P. Good luck to you._

_Love, your friend,_

_Castiel_

Dean read the letter again. Then he read it again. His eyes grew blurry. _Shit. He about to cry in the middle of Sandover’s home office. Shit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remaining chapters are outlined and some are drafted. Happy days will be here again. Destiel WILL be canon. At least in my stories, darn it. Hopefully, you'll hear from me again very soon. Fingers crossed I can feel cheered again. Kudos and comments are wonderful (thank you in advance). I really appreciate it when you take the time to let me know if you're liking the story.


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